The Braves Legacy
by laZardo
Summary: Ramza, Alma and Oran are all long dead. Ivalice and the Church are at peace. Magic has been replaced by technology. But some legends never die. Rated M for violence in later chapters, feedback very appreciated.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Tactics and all related characters are copyrighted to Square Enix. This story is not written for any profit-making purposes.

* * *

**Prologue**

_The following is an excerpt from a television documentary on ancient Ivalician artifacts that aired recently._

* * *

**NARRATOR**  
Twelve Zodiac Stones, one for each sign of the traditional Zodiac. They are mystical jewels of auracite, and conduits for the creations of the Gods. Eleven of these are said to play host to both a light and dark summon, the Espers and the Lucavi respectively. The twelfth stone, however, played host to the highest among the creations, Ultima.

Using the first eleven stones for selfish ambitions would lead to one invariably possessed by that Stone's Lucavi. There are stories that these individuals would transform into Lucavi themselves and wreak havoc until stopped by a holy presence.

On the other hand, using these stones' power for the sake of selfless good would bring a miracle by the Esper, from a bountiful harvest to reviving a dead body. And according to both legends and Glabados scripture, by assembling all twelve together in a time of crisis, the Zodiac Braves would appear to restore order to the world only to vanish once crisis was averted.

**JANUS DELLA PORTA**_  
Professor of Theology, Ajoran University of Gallione_  
Ultima, unlike the individual Lucavi and Espers, is sentient of both natures albeit generally just. It was believed that the fortunes of history invariably linked to either of Ultima's natures. At the same time we believe that we were created in such an image, that our ability to not only perform light and dark deeds and at the same time be cognizant of them was what make us the highest lifeforms on this planet. The biggest beneficiaries of its evolution, as it were.

Thus it would make sense that the traits of Ultima would have to be found the leader of the Zodiac Braves in their purest form if they were ever to be summoned.

**NARRATOR**  
Saint Ajora was Ultima's incarnation on Earth. As Scripture goes, he and his disciples successfully collected the stones, summoned the Zodiac Braves and saved the land against a demon. This only one of two known instances of the Braves rising to protect the world, the other having taken place sometime between the First Golden Era and the Cataclysm, inspiring Ajora many centuries later.

**JANUS DELLA PORTA**  
Unfortunately, counting Ajora and all the disciples, there were 12 stones for _13_ people. The first of the disciples insisted that Germonique could have his stone while he tended to the sick and wounded, but the fact that Germonique was not initially granted a stone in the first place planted the seed of his envy.

It was this envy that eventually drove him to betray Ajora, and sell him to the soldiers of the Ydoran Empire after the demon was slain. But as the miracles and warnings he invoked showed Ultima's light nature, so did his death invoke Ultima's anger, resulting in the sinking of Mullonde.

**NARRATOR**  
Precisely 40 days after his death, Ajora ascended to the heavens and the rest, of course, is history. The other eleven disciples dispersed and their stones with them, never to be seen again. Or did they?

The Church of Glabados recently made public a series of records indicating that it had tried to acquire the stones during the Lion Wars. It had even dispatched the Knights Templar to aid them. However, the chaos of the war eventually overwhelmed them and ushered in the First Age of Reformation. The records do not mention whether they had actually managed to acquire any of the stones, let alone use them.

Yet there is another mystery, one that dates back to time immemorial.

A 13th stone, for Ophiuchus, the zodiacal constellation not included in the formal Zodiac, and possibly a conduit for _Zodiark_.

**FR. ANDREW BARDAN**  
_Bishop, Diocese of Fovoham_  
Zodiark is said to have been the most powerful of the creations of the Gods, perhaps even more powerful than Ultima. After the creations' rebellion against the Gods inflicted the Cataclysm, it is said that Ultima became remorseful and penitent. The punishment for Ultima was to serve humanity with her 'dual' nature. This is what reminds us of our place in the world. But Zodiark did not, and because of the magnitude of his power rivaling Ultima's, he was banished to darkness, expelled from the zodiac that is ironically named after him along with what would become the Lucavi.

Of course that does not mean that his desire for vengeance did not sometimes wreak havoc on our plane of existence...but the last time it had done so to such a great magnitude was during the life of Saint Ajora.

**NARRATOR**  
Could the Zodiac Braves have been summoned for the purpose of stopping Zodiark from fulfilling that desire? And what of Zodiark's powers and their influence on this world?

**FR. BARDAN**  
It makes sense for some skeptics that as the twelve Zodiac Stones each contain a creation's powers, a thirteenth could as well exist for a being as powerful as Zodiark. It could as well be a concentration of his power into a source, waiting for an unsuspecting conduit. But that would already be _end times_ prophecy.

**NARRATOR**  
As yet, there is little more to substantiate the stone's existence than the events recorded by hands long decayed.

What is certain is that the legend of the Zodiac Stones, and the Braves behind them continue to live on, not just as Church doctrine but as inspiration for many who live their lives around valiance, diligence, and honor.

**FR. BARDAN**  
Only the Gods know how everything begins and ends. But how we get there is really up to each one of us.

* * *

_Author's Note: I came up with the original idea for the story after watching the Da Vinci Code, but never really got around to it until I finished watching Angels & Demons. There will probably be a lot of Dan Brown "style" on this story, but I hope to form my own style from it. Chapter 1 should be up soon._


	2. Prologue I

_Prologue elements based on storyline and characters written for Final Fantasy Tactics licensed to Square Enix. Original story and characters set in universe by Square Enix. No for-profit ownership is claimed over any of them._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

It was a beautiful autumn morning, the leaves of the trees fiery amidst a pristine blue sky. A soft breeze wafted through the ruins of Zeltennia Chapel, brushing gently against toppled stone and weaving through the vines that slowly started to reclaim its foundations for nature. A single rider and his chocobo approached the chapel from a dirt path in the forest, perhaps looking out of place dressed in his royal, ceremonial armor.

For Delita Hyral, King of all Ivalice, this was a greeting as good as any set of heralds with their trumpets as he rode under what was once a grand arch. There were no lush carpets rolled out for him, only grass and moss-covered stone. There were no lines of nobles, advisors, princes and princesses and their small armies of servants lined up to cater to his every whim.

Only a single woman knelt before what was once this chapel's altar, with her back turned to him, the sun softly reflecting off of her bright red cape and golden locks. He smiled warmly as he spotted her, having found the one person he spent the better part of the morning searching for.

He dismounted from the chocobo, his royal robes flowing smoothly off the saddle as he dropped to his feet. He observed her concealed beauty for but a few moments as he straightened himself out, brushing off any debris that might have found a temporary nest in his robes or his neatly-brushed brown hair during his journey here. After taking a deep breath, he greeted her with all the stern charm required of a monarch.

"I thought I might find you here, everyone has been looking for you," he said, thoughts of when he first met her in these same ruins many years ago aiding him in keeping up his tone.

He reached under his cloak and pulled out a magificent bouquet of flowers, picked from the finest gardens in the castle yet resilient to the constrictions of his attire.

"Today is your birthday, is it not? I brought you-"

His words were cut off when he realized too late that what at first appeared to be his wife Queen Ovelia Hyral running to lovingly embrace him was actually an angry charge with the ornate dagger presented to her as a gift after their coronation.

The bouquet fell from his hand as the dagger found its mark squarely in his gut, landing softly on the chapel's cobbled floor as the King gazed stunned into his Queen's eyes.

"O-Ovelia?" he choked through the blood welling up in his organs, slowly escaping through his mouth.

"How could you? You...you used them, and all the others!" she cried, her rage mixing with her tears, "And someday you'll cast me aside, just as you did with him!"

Instead of politely submissive affection, he saw nothing but fire in those eyes, burning through every mask he had put on, every facade he had erected in his quest to seize power.

And it was in that moment as he dangled by a thread over the abyss itself that his mind began to take form around a realization as grave as his wounds. But such a revelation could not arrive soon enough, as the initial shock had given him a sudden burst of strength.

Out of reflex, he clutched her wrist with one hand and the dagger with the other. She tried to push the dagger further, but her efforts amounted to naught against someone who trained from childhood alongside the finest in the deadly arts of melee combat.

With little effort, he wrested the dagger from his chest and her hand, pushing her away before swiftly - and literally - returning the favor through her heart. With a pained gurgle, the Queen slumped forward onto her knees, her life trickling from her body and soaking into her clothing.

She used her remaining strength to look into the face of the man who had promised to build a kingdom for her before she fell onto her side and breathed her last. Neither love nor fire could be found in eyes that quickly glazed over in deathly blindness.

Only silence. A void where once a person and her life and all she loved once stood.

Blood trickled from her body into the fallen bouquet, nudging loose petals away as it formed a small stream that disappeared between the cracks of the old stone floor.

Delita backed slowly away from his handiwork, the unexpected end result of a master plan that had elevated a mere commoner to royalty amidst the chaos of the war that nearly rent Ivalice in two. And it was here that the revelation he had noticed only seconds prior began to settle in after all the chaos had settled.

He was king, the great unifier of the realm. The singular leader of virtue in a conflict bestrewn with corruption. Yet no great ambition came without an equally great price to pay. In war, such a price was paid in blood. The blood of Queen Ovelia Atkascha, of the two Dukes of Ivalice and all their peons, of the corrupt officials of the Church of Glabados trying to play them all for fools.

And yet it was here, in the throes of death itself, that Delita realized he was not the only one to escape the strings that pulled him in fulfilling his ambition. He was the only one to escape untainted by society, to be sure, and up until the moment when cold metal pierced his flesh he knew quite well that he had become quite the puppetmaster.

Yet the mere act of escape dwarfed its consequences, and he wondered what such consequences were for the man he once called a brother and his only real friend.

"Did...did you get your end in all of this, Ramza?" Delita gurgled, his vision blurring the colors of the world into a hideous mixture of brown and gray as blood started to trickle from his mouth, "I...I got...this..."

Then he too collapsed forward onto the cobbled stone floor of the chapel, the light rumble of his royal guard's footsteps the last thing he heard as his grip on consciousness slipped away.

And then, finally, there was only silence.

* * *

_Chapter 1 End_

_Trying to go for a shorter chapter format, see where that takes me. More soon.  
_


	3. Prologue II

_Prologue elements based on storyline and characters written for Final Fantasy Tactics licensed to Square Enix. Original story and characters set in universe by Square Enix. No for-profit ownership is claimed over any of them._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

There was only darkness.

He knew that something heavy entombed him in some kind of twisted pressure oven, as he could feel his entire body slowly being cooked from the outside in. He could only taste the rusted aroma of blood already dried up in his mouth, inhale smoke and dust and who knew what else, hear faint rumblings of large chunks of...something...heaved around by a great force. These rumblings grew ever louder, as if something was approaching him from underneath. Or from above. He couldn't tell which way was up, as he had already lost his bearings in the explosion that embedded him in the bedrock.

He tried to scream, but the rubble piled atop his chest only forced out a pained whimper that sounded more like a wheeze. He couldn't exactly brace for whatever was coming for him, he couldn't move his limbs.

The blackness slid into an almost equally-dark shade of blue as the last chunk of rubble was lifted off of him, chilly night air forcing him to stay awake as it blew into his face and caused his entire body to sting.

"There you are," came the voice of his solitary rescuer, as she peered into the gap where he lay. To her, it was a miracle he was alive and recognizable, managing to recognize the basic shapes of his face through the burned top layer of skin and layers of armor that were now fused to it.

But to him, the only miracle he could ask for now was death itself. Fear clutched whatever parts of his body weren't crushed or otherwise rendered completely numb by debris as, despite his blurry vision, he realized that whoever had found him was not here to rescue him. Indeed, he thought, no, **SWORE** he had slain her only minutes (or was it hours?) ago in the explosion that had left him trapped in this unholy fissure.

Her silvery-white hair glowed by the moonlight of the starless sky, a gentle, almost healing glow that certainly didn't impede his eyesight adjusting. Her body was a perfectly-shaped vision of beauty, as voluptuous as it was athletic, clad in a lascivious red outfit that made even a succubus seem like a hag. Two glowing pairs of angelic wings emerged gracefully from her silvery-white hair and back. But this...this was no angel.

He gasped as if awakening from an only slightly-less horrible dream, the thought of a rescue and all hopes thereof vanishing from his mind as the debris around his limbs continued to hold him down. He could only move his head to see what lay around him, and even then that was a freedom he regretted as his sight finally cleared up.

The world around him was one of total desolation. The rotting hulls of ages-old airships could be seen by the horizon, each of them damaged in ways that corresponded to which way they pointed to the epicenter. But rotted and burned wood did not impact his already shattered psyche as much as the sight of singed and bloodied flesh.

Strewn across the debris were assorted bodies and parts thereof, mutilated almost beyond recognition. But he knew which souls once resided in those once-intact bodies, such knowledge chilling him to whatever bones were still attached to his own body. The scent of the blood mixed in with the smoke billowed from the burning remains of the wrecks, and inhaling it only amplified the fear that left him with no recourse but to lament not having suffered the same fate.

"You have awakened," Ultima said, smiling sadistically, "My plans lay in ruin for now...but at least...I have you." She reached out a hand to stroke the boy's bruised cheek, her touch finally draining whatever hope he had of escape from this endless, desolate wasteland. He snivelled at her touch, his tears interspersed with the odd bubble of blood he coughed up from whatever debris had found their way into his throat.

Ramza Beoulve had foiled the Lucavi's plans for domination, but at the price of his friends, his family, and once the Angel of Blood had finished with him - if it were even possible for a being like her to do so - who knew what else. He turned his head away again, squinting his eyes shut and holding his breath in a futile brace for the inevitable.

**"Release him! Your fight is with me!"**

Someone called out for him...or her? Amale voice, vaguely familiar to him. He opened his eyes again to find her looking to the side, shocked that somebody else had survived. But he couldn't tell if she was smiling or shocked from this sudden revelation.

He tried to say something, _anything, _to call out to whoever that was, but in that instant, his vision went white.

* * *

_Chapter End_

_Author's Note: So this would be the end of the two prologues, both of which I started about the same time I made the very first chapter. The next one will be set in modern tyme.  
_


	4. Good Evening Dorter

_Original story and characters set in universe by Square Enix. No for-profit ownership is claimed over any of them._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Sweat beaded down the boy's forehead as his eyes suddenly opened, gasping for breath. The fire that baked his body suddenly dissipated, replaced by cool air conditioning. The skies lit up - and closed up - into the ceiling of a hotel room with a single source of light to his side in the form of the bedside lamp.

He immediately jolted up to sit on the hotel bed where he had lain for the past hour or so, gasping for breath. Reality easily brought much more acceptable surroundings than his recent nightmare, but the intangible thoughts were harder to make disappear.

"Aless? You awake yet?" the female voice, sounding more exasperated than sinister, called from the bathroom.

"Yeah. I'm awake..." Aless groaned between gasps, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

His brown hair had been jostled by his bodily machinations during his dream, and he found himself having to fix it to restore it to a more presentable condition. He ran a hand through it in a quick yet futile effort to keep it down. At least he was sure he was in reality, specifically speaking, in his room at the Viola Hotel with a view of Dorter Bay. Night had already fallen on the old trade city, and the lights of the party clubs lining the coast rendered the sky practically starless.

The source of the voice stepped out of the bathroom. Her blonde hair was already bound in a ponytail as neat as her business suit. She did not seem too concerned about her companion's mental state as much as the fact that he hadn't completely finished dressing. His scrawny chest had started to shine a bit from the sweat that started soaking into his undershirt.

Rebecca Carver simply sighed. "You should stop taking naps before big occasions like this," she said as she picked up her purse from the bedside table, "The stress can give you nightmares."

Alessandro Gianetti stretched his arms and yawned, muttering "Sorry..." as he recoiled. He squirmed toward the edge of the bed, putting one sock-clad foot down, then the other onto the carpeted floor.

"Just get dressed. You should be thankful the Cardinal is a patient man," Rebecca replied in an almost matronly tone as she applied lipstick in the mirror, "But don't take too long. We can't be late to the opening."

Aless slowly trudged to the bathroom almost like a member of the undead, and closed the door behind him. He leaned forward onto the sink, looking into his own eyes through the mirror before opening the tap and splashing his face with cold water to really wake himself up. He and his companion had worked late into the night over the past few days, but he still couldn't get why Rebecca never seemed to run out of energy. Maybe he really just couldn't handle all the stress, at least not in public view. As he reached for his suit, hanging from the curtain pole above the bathtub, he started to think about how much time he would get to relax once the exhibit was wrapped up.

He emerged a few minutes later looking cheerier and neater than when he'd woken up, although his eyes still had visible bags.

"So...ready to go when you are!" he said to Becca, forcing a soft smile.

Rebecca almost raised an eyebrow at Aless' attempts to hide his anxiety, but decided not to say anything else as she finished wrapping up a text message on her smartphone. She neatly slid it back into her purse before withdrawing a VIP ID card to the Dorter Metropolitan Museum of Art. Although she had always considered Aless more of a sibling than anything else having practically grown up with him, there were times when she felt like his babysitter when their mutual career choices in archaeology took them "out of the way." It was perhaps her adaptable adherence to routine and ritual, something others considered "old-fashioned," that she believed helped her maintain her calm.

Aless, on the other hand, simply stared at his own ID for a few moments, identical in every way to hers save for their photos, on the bedside table. He stretched out his arms one more time before clipping it to his suit collar, just beside the tie.

"We'd better hurry," Rebecca said as she opened the door, "Our ride's already here."

The entire room went dark as Aless removed the hotel keycard that also acted as the power switch from the entry hall and followed her out.

* * *

_Chapter 3 End_


	5. Solitude Disturbed

_Original story and characters set in universe by Square Enix. No for-profit ownership is claimed over any of them._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Off the main highway and down the backroads of the countryside southwest of Dorter lies a small chapel dating back to earlier days of the middle ages, jutting out of the marshland. Once a checkpoint on the old transcontinental trading routes, the rather quaint appearance of Orbonne Monastery is almost literally the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

The old stone and stained-glass monastery was not just the habitation of the old clergy. Orbonne sits atop five stories of a large underground library containing a collection of more than 10,000 books, some of which possibly date back to the ancient Holy Ydoran Empire that once ruled Ivalice prior to the Ajoran era. This includes the long-dead trades of magic spells, as well as the lore of bygone eras. Most, however, detail affairs only the most skilled of historians and linguists could understand let alone express their interest in, and it is thought that the rest were simply confiscated and not burned for obscure political reasons.

The library underwent thorough restoration in recent years thanks to generosity from the Ajoran Universities of Ivalice. Along with state-of-the-art temperature control blended into the ancient walls and pillars, other 'updated' amenities include clean restrooms and wireless interlink access even on the bottom floors.

Nevertheless, Orbonne remains the "biblioteca obscura" to most readers, too esoteric for the dwindling membership of readers that could now access entire libraries on electronic tablets.

Just as well, most of Orbonne's collection had yet to be tagged for sorting let alone preserving, and the process was slow lest a simple strip of clear tape ended up irreversibly damaging a potential facet of ancient history forever.

It was therefore the perfect environment for the more obsessive academics to tackle their interests in relative secrecy, in the renovated study rooms on the lower floors where the clergy once prayed and meditated.

Only one of them - on the lowest floor - was lit at this hour, by the light of a few study lamps and a laptop screen. Only two people occupied this small study room, which contained two desks each with room for several books and standard library chairs.

The first was an old man in his sixties typing up a manuscript while seated at his laptop. His calmly kempt beard and graying hair was that of an academic of such a matching obsession, and his professor's jacket was separate from the rest of his outfit, hanging over a chair. His usually wild brown eyes were focused on the monitor of his laptop as he finished saving another document.

The other was a student from the nearest AUI campus that had volunteered to help him, leaning on the table opposite but facing his senior. Normally the red-haired younger student would have been busy fetching various books and collating notes to aid in their research, but now he was engrossed in a foreign graphic novel and listening to music he liked on his portable media player.

After what felt like months of research, the boy could afford to relax a little. Despite his casual clothing and lack of attention to his surroundings, the bags under his dark green eyes betrayed his dedication to what was clearly someone else's obsession.

Of course, this assistant didn't realize at first that he would be committing so much effort just for what now seemed like extra credit. But after the initial stress, such effort became almost routine although he continued to savor what breaks were allotted.

"Done!" the older man quietly exclaimed before leaning back in his own seat, snapping the other occupant to attention at the progress bar appearing at the center of the screen.

"...it is?" the startled assistant replied, curiosity almost overwhelmed by bewilderment as he moved over to peer at the laptop's monitor. The screen only displayed the last page of the manuscript, but the assistant had a good idea of the rest, if he didn't memorize it outright.

Only the author, the assistant, and - to a limited extent - their contact at the publishing company knew exactly what sort of revelations lay inside that manuscript, which had been restored, recompiled and cited with sources drawn from all across the IU.

Where such manuscripts would have once occupied entire bedside chests now took the form of ones and zeroes in electronic storage.

"Yes it is," the author continued, smiling almost tearfully. "At long last, we can finally unearth a truth buried for so long."

Although he was familiar with the idea, the young assistant struggled to remember the exact words from fatigue.

"The one about...the beliefs every Ivalician holds dear."

"Yes. An injustice centuries old." The author's determination had not faded with his own exhaustion. "And a promise fulfilled to a forerunner...one that they will go to lengths to continue concealing."

"So it's essentially like opening a box of horrors?" the assistant then added non-chalantly, "It's like you're saying this could tear Ivalice itself apart for some old family vendetta..."

The old author was not the least bit perturbed by the analogy, if only for hearing it so many times from the young assistant and others who had a vague idea of what sort of project he had compiled. Perhaps it was understandable to him that keeping it concealed this long would have given others the impression that it was just another peddled conspiracy theory.

But for all the bluster of the latest interlink activist sensation, he knew there was always credence to an idea spreading like a virus.

Amidst that brief moment of contemplation, the old author did not find the opportunity to reply as he turned in his seat to face the doorway, where a shadow that seemed to waver in the dim hallway light had caught the corner of his eye.

"Security's down here early..." the author muttered as he checked the clock on the computer screen, "They don't _usually_ insist until after ten."

"I'll go check," the assistant replied, taking off his media player and putting it on the table by the laptop before standing up. Before he could turn to leave though, the author stood up and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be too hasty with him," the author added quietly but reassuringly, "Remember how close we were to getting evicted the last time?"

To which the assistant smirked, one that looked almost undead where the laptop screen was the largest source of light. "Yeah, I got it," he groaned, before turning to leave.

The older man watched as the kid stretched out his arms a little while leaving.

"Hey, what the-"

The last thing the older man heard from the assistant after his exclamation was a choking noise, then a soft thud, then silence.

The author knew then and there that paranoia was no longer paranoia when it had been justified. He only hoped he had time to write one last chapter before his own inevitable end.

* * *

_Chapter 4 End_

_A/N: I live. I think. Hopefully it isn't too mangled for dusting it off at 2:30 in the morning. Maybe I can get to more of this._


	6. The Commute

_Original story and characters set in universe by Square Enix. No for-profit ownership is claimed over any of them._

* * *

Located a quarter of a mile from Dorter Bay, the Viola Hotel does not rank among the city's more elite tourist lodgings. Its recent renovation along with thorough maintenance by the staff resulted in the Hotel considered alongside bed-and-breakfasts for affordability as well as a degree of inconspicuousness for travelers that prefer to stay out of the limelight.

But Alessandro and Rebecca were leaving to step into it, if only for a moment.

Although the two archaeologists stepping out of the elevator had contrasting demeanors, it was not exactly off for one to think that Alessandro and Rebecca were really fraternal twins. They came from separate families, but had known each other from preschool. Indeed those who had known them long enough knew they probably would not have had a problem with being referred to as brother and sister.

One of those people being a slightly paunch yet homely elderly man in a cardinal's outfit that greeted the two as they approached him near the reception desk.

"Ah, there you are. You've kept us waiting," he began in a rather quiet, gravelly tone as he opened his arms to his sides to welcome two friends he had known almost as a son and daughter.

Several bodyguards were placed around the modest lobby, a proper detail for a man of his station.

"Cardinal Savigny," Becca responded quite formally, before bowing. "Blessings of Saint Ajora-"

"No need for formalities in this environment," the Cardinal replied, gesturing dismissively. "I'm just pleased that your hard work and dedication are finally being recognized at last."

Age was already starting to take its toll on Francois Cardinal Savigny of Gallionne. Already into his sixties, his hair and skin were already showing signs of his autumn years, and the rest of his body had begun to take on a sort of hunched rotundness characteristic of the elderly.

Yet these were burdens the Cardinal seemed to carry in stride.

Although he certainly looked like he could blend perfectly into the College of Cardinals, this shepherd had been known for being unusually energetic and optimistic at his age where others were worried about the diminishing size of their flock.

"We couldn't have done it without your guidance," Aless said, shaking the Cardinal's hand with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

"As well as your endorsement as a Cardinal of the Church of Glabados, no less," Becca pointed out.

"No more than a signature on a paper," the Cardinal replied with a nod, Becca's hinted sarcasm having no effect, "Your work has more than spoken for itself. Now, I believe, we have an exhibit to open."

The sleek black limousine parked in the hotel's driveway flew the diplomatic flags of the Church from its front body panels, and similarly ominous black sedans were parked to the limo's front and rear.

A valet helped the three into the limo, Aless and Becca taking the back seats with the Cardinal taking the ones opposite, just behind the driver. There was a small table in the middle, which was normally used for drinks. As the cardinal abstained from alcohol, there were newly-printed guides to the Dorter Metropolitan placed on them instead, headlining the exhibit they had effectively assembled.

Aless exhaled happily as he let himself sink into the leather. The limo's acceleration out of the hotel driveway and onto the city roads helped him settle in, feeling like the seats were helping push the stress out of him.

"I see all of your work has taken its toll on your brother," the Cardinal said to Becca, "Much less so on you."

"I try to keep my..._obsessions_ with ancient history under control," Becca replied as she glanced at Aless, who had taken one of the guides and had started leafing through them.

His attention was fixated on the pictures of what each wing of the museum was featuring for this exhibit, lit only by a small reading light that could be retracted from the limo seat. A few were books, others old swords and crude firearms. His gaze nearly became fixated on what looked like a gem, before the conversation drew his attention back.

"Ah, but look at where your obsessions have brought," the Cardinal said, "It is hard to believe this exhibit is the fruit of your childhood fantasies."

"We've all come a long way since we were your pupils in Gallione," Aless added, trying to snap out of his grogginess. "It's nice to be recognized, but it all feels so...impersonal."

He emphasized the last word as he put the guide back down on the table and stared longingly out at the passing buildings that were swiftly replaced by trees.

Their route drew them further inland from the bay, through Sant-Charles Park toward the Museum, which topped a hill close to its northern edge. The park was still quite busy at this hour, with couples taking moonlight strolls and the occasional junkie looking for a place to sleep off his fix.

"Renown is renown, and it's tiring letting artefacts have all the spotlight to themselves," Becca added, almost the embodiment of 'impersonal' as she looked out the window, the red and blue of the convoy escort blinkers leaving flickering touches on the passing scenery. "At least we all still have some privacy."

"Nothing is private in the eyes of the gods," the Cardinal replied sagely.

"Or the cameras of the press," Aless added, to which Savigny smiled.

"Ah, but unlike your popular music stars, you have your integrity," Savigny replied, "Not even physical handicap can impede you from your search for the truth when you have that."

Aless briefly glanced at the Cardinal and smiled, before shifting his gaze to just past the Cardinal's shoulder, past the driver and out the front window.

The modern glass structure of the Dorter Metropolitan was slowly wedging into their view.

Becca had already begun making a few last-minute cosmetic adjustments - lipstick and makeup. But Aless took a deep breath as he made out the words on the banners that hung from the streetlights as markers on the route up to the museum's driveway.

He cringed a little inside as he straightened his tie, ruminating on what their other mentor would have thought of all their hard work being advertised in such a predictably contradictory manner to what they had hoped.

* * *

_Chapter 5 End_

_A/N: Much like earlier chapters of my Ace Combat fic "Memoirs," I actually wrote this and the next few in a batch so expect some fairly rapid updates up to a point._


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